


a man could live

by pastelfalcon



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bottom!Sam, Butt Plugs, Fisting, M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2014-06-08
Packaged: 2018-02-03 21:39:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1757671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastelfalcon/pseuds/pastelfalcon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Well, you’re in my bed,” Steve quips cheerfully, “Not exactly something I can be modest about.”</p><p>Sam means to say, “Yeah, well, if you don’t start jacking me off, I’m gonna leave your bed,” but somewhere between his brain and his mouth the message gets tangled up in the persistent push of the plug against his insides, and what he ends up saying is, “You gonna fist me?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	a man could live

**Author's Note:**

> Somebody requested fisting with bottom!Sam on Tumblr, so here it is! (As always, I'm taking smut prompts; see my Tumblr of the same name.)

“Jesus,” Sam hisses through his teeth, and if he’s ever called Steve “sweet” or “giving” in the past, he’s taking it back right now, because the only thing Steve Rogers deserves to be called is “tease,” and if Sam could move, he’d be kicking himself for getting back into bed with him over and over in the first place. “Jesus, *shit*, Steve –”

“Well I’m sure that he did,” Steve says, casual as you please, “But I don’t think he’d like us talking about it.”

Sam groans angrily and bucks his hips, trying to press his dick harder in Steve’s loose, lube-slicked grasp. Steve laughs his annoyingly beautiful laugh and holds Sam down by his hip, letting the flared base of the plug currently vibrating Sam’s insides into jello hold it in rather than position it himself. It’s the biggest one Sam’s got, a little shy of how wide Steve’s cock is, but Steve smacked fresh batteries in the sucker before pushing it inside him with some warming lube and now Sam’s not sure if they’ll be able to pull the son of a bitch back out.

“Hold your knees up,” Steve instructs conversationally, and Sam gives him a dirty look while he folds his legs up and tucks his hands under his knees. “You make a pretty picture, filled to the brim like that,” he croons, kissing the bottom of Sam’s foot, and for a full ten seconds Sam thinks about kicking him in his stupid handsome face.

“You gonna let me come or what?” Sam grouses.

“You get impatient pretty quickly,” Steve observes, releasing Sam’s hip in good faith to fiddle with the plug, tilting it to stretch Sam’s asshole wider and nudge the tip against his prostate. Sam hisses again, long and breathless, and Steve’s smile couldn’t be any more apple pie and baseball even if that’s what they were really partaking in instead of driving Sam up the wall. “A man could live off watching you unravel like this and never want for more.” He sounds like he’s giving a speech on America’s virtues instead of Sam’s.

Sam bares his teeth again and curls his toes, enduring another agonizingly slow drag of Steve’s big hand over the long curve of his dick. “Smug…,” he gets out, not quite committing to calling Steve an asshole.

“Well, you’re in my bed,” Steve quips cheerfully, “Not exactly something I can be modest about.”

Sam means to say, “Yeah, well, if you don’t start jacking me off, I’m gonna leave your bed,” but somewhere between his brain and his mouth the message gets tangled up in the persistent push of the plug against his insides, and what he ends up saying is, “You gonna fist me?”

Steve’s eyes dilate and darken about six shades. He licks his lips consideringly and murmurs, “I thought about it, sure.”

“Think about it some more,” Sam grits out, and bucks his hips once just to feel the warm glide of slick fingers over his erection before he explodes, “and then do it.”

It turns out the one who should have thought about it some more is Sam, because getting fisted by Captain America is just about as intimidating as it sounds. Steve’s fingers are thick, and though Sam’s toes spasm at the loss of the plug when Steve tugs it free, they curl again when he fits four fingers in its place and pushes them in to the top of his palm; when he tucks in the top of his thumb, Sam groans low and has to dig his nails into the undersides of his knees to keep from gasping out in pain.

“You okay?” Steve asks, pumping his cock slowly, and Sam can feel how much he wants to let go of it and pet Sam’s side instead.

“Peachy,” Sam exhales, eyes winced shut as he evens out his breathing. “Little more lube.”

Steve obeys quickly, slathering his fingers in that clumsy-but-not way he does everything that doesn’t involve knocking somebody unconscious, and pushes back in slower this time. Sam groans short and sweet and Steve smiles at him recklessly. “You like this.”

“Yeah, I like this,” Sam says impatiently, nudging Steve with his lifted foot. “C’mon now, Rogers, keep up.”

“You keep still,” Steve answers, getting up on his knees to lean over Sam enough to watch his face when he goes back to jerking him off, hand grinding into Sam until his body is gripping it just beneath the base of Steve’s thumb. “Gorgeous,” Steve says wonderingly, “Gorgeous and mine.”

“And I’m prettier when I orgasm,” Sam wasps, tongue touching the gap between his front teeth briefly before he tips his head back against the bed. “Okay, I can take the rest now.”

“You sure?”

“Gimme all you got, Cap.” And Sam’s laughing when Steve flushes dark and stops laughing when he pushes in, feeling like Steve’s dragging his insides with him, tangling him up swollen and deep. It’s still funny but it’s not. “Damn. Damn. That’s -…”

“Intense,” Steve supplies softly. His knuckles brush along tender inner flesh as he tucks his fingers over his palm, forming a fist against immense heat and pressure.

He’s always opened up easy for Steve, easier even than Steve’s body opens up for him, so it’s no surprise he’s able to take it. No surprise, and yet Sam can’t get his lungs full again, like he’s got too much inside him and a full breath just isn’t an option.

Sam’s panting, eyes fluttering open and shut as he gets used to the sensation of a rock in the pit of his stomach, skin sensitive all over like he’s buzzing with electricity. “Steve, man, you gotta start jerking me off,” he says, pleading and joking but mostly pleading.

Steve licks his lips and starts doing just that, eyes half-lidded and flicking back and forth between Sam’s cock leaking on his stomach, the taut stretch of his ass around Steve’s wrist, and the way Sam’s mouth won’t quite close as he breathes.

“Gotta,” says Steve restlessly, awkwardly craning down so he can kiss away Sam’s next groan. He licks into Sam’s mouth and stays there, lips warm and eager like maybe he’s the one with somebody’s fist up his ass –

“Gonna be your turn next,” Sam growls against his mouth, but he starts rolling his hips, letting the bump and drag of Steve’s knuckles work his prostate like a sound board, making Sam grunt and purr in a series of partially self-strangled sounds. “Gonna be so open for me, Steve – nn, *shit*, *so full*.”

“Baby,” Steve says impulsively, but it’s not a tease, it’s an endearment, soft-voiced and honest and warm –

Sam comes hard, only vaguely aware of his dick; instead, the orgasm seems to crackle up from the soles of his feet, burning in a flashfire up his body and bringing tears to the corners of his closed eyes. He feels overstuffed from his curled toes to the top of his head as he rubs back against the mattress, the sheet rippling beneath his squirming and damp with his sweat, ass pulsing like he can feel every last surge of blood through his flesh.

“So good,” Steve’s saying against his mouth, breathing in his air and feeding it back to him with every nuzzling kiss, “So, so good.”

“Alright, ride’s over, everybody out,” Sam mumbles, but it’s lazy and not serious enough for Steve to heed. Steve kisses his forehead, and Sam cracks a smile, because Captain America is a big fluffy cuddle-hog.

“Seriously, though, out,” Sam clarifies, eyes opening fully for the first time since Steve pushed him down and fingered him loose enough to get the plug in.

“Yes, sir,” Steve agrees in parody of smiling obedience, but when he uncurls his fingers, he wriggles them playfully against Sam’s insides, and Sam’s lowers one foot enough to kick him in the shoulder lightly. “A man could live off—“

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam interrupts, “But a man’s gonna live on the couch if he don’t get his hand outta my ass so I can take a damn shower.”

Steve starts laughing again, and doesn’t stop even when Sam kicks him for real.


End file.
